


SimplyBenLogical

by eliseroseblack



Category: Youtubers, celebrities and real people
Genre: Chaos Ensues, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Soulmate AU, University AU, ben is a disgruntled accounting student, coffee shop AU, cristine works at starbucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 00:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12664569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliseroseblack/pseuds/eliseroseblack
Summary: Cristine is a struggling university student who works at Starbucks to support herself in her Forensic Science degree. Every day a disgruntled accounting student comes in and orders a latte, which grinds her gears, since tea runs through her veins instead of blood. She makes it anyway, always with a not-so-subtle design hinting at the amazing tea blends she's capable of brewing shaped in the froth atop the disgusting mess that is anything crafted from coffee beans when there are a plethora of tea blends to get one's daily caffeine fix from. They've never exchanged words, but that's about to change forever. In Canadia, at birth, everyone is born with the first words their soulmate will ever say to them imprinted on their inner wrist. Most of the time, this isn't nearly as helpful as it sounds. Cristine's unique phrase should have assisted her a great deal in identifying her soul mate, but she couldn't have been more wrong.





	SimplyBenLogical

The morning dragged on as customer after customer came in ordering bloody coffee instead of the delicious tea blends you dreamed up for each customer simply by glancing at them out of the corner of your eye and calculating what sorts of flavours they’d like based on their outfit and personal hygiene, all sort of factors that ordinary people wouldn’t realise have an impact on their taste buds.   
Yet another frazzled university student stumbles through the doors, weighed down by their ridiculously overpriced textbooks. You glance up from the coffee you’re working on for long enough to calculate what sort of tea you’d make for him, based on the accounting textbooks he’s lugging with him in his arms and not in a sensible backpack like most other students and the cosy looking clothing he’s chosen to wrap himself in in this winter weather that’s almost permanent in this region of Canada. Except you overhear your colleague take his order—coffee—of course! Yet another person yet to be converted to your tea-takeover agenda for global domination plot for all the caffeine-addicted people of the world.   
Grudgingly, you make his order, read the name written on the lid—spelled atrociously, as usual—and shout it to the tiny room of brain-dead caffeine-zombies milling about the cafe.   
His fingers brush yours as he takes the cup from you, and your blood fizzles through your veins and you watch, fascinated, as he turns and walks out of the cafe as if nothing at all interesting had just occurred between you. Turning back to complete the next order just set in front of you by your colleague, you see in simple script printed on the inside of your wrist, the name you just called out to a silent room, while the other wrist simply says FAKE HOLO in bold print and you feel a smirk twist your lips as you make the coffee required of you as if on autopilot, your mind returning to the handsome stranger who you’ve never seen order coffee here before, but you hope he returns again when you are on duty, much as you hate working here, just so that you can touch his hand again and see if the spark between you was just a one-time thing, or if the sudden tattoo on your wrist is correct in ascribing him to be your soul-mate. 

***   
After your shift is over, you pull your apron from your head, returning to your favoured daily uniform of sweatpants and a hoodie. You grab your backpack from it’s hidey hole at the back of the cafe and set out from the back door at a slight jog so that you aren’t late to your crime stats class that you low-key hate, and wish you were at home with your cat Menchie painting your nails instead. But, you’ve got to do something to make ends meet for the rest of your life, and apparently painting nails isn’t quite good enough on its own for a career to earn an adequate living on, so here you are serving people coffee and learning about crime when you’d much rather be at home drinking tea and painting your nails. Your job would be so much better if at least one person who came in each time you were on shift ordered a cup of tea, or was willing to listen to your suggestions on what blend they’d like, but most people were so narrow-minded and stuck in their ways that they didn’t want to listen to an upstart, opinionated adolescent such as yourself, even if you were the trained barista and not them.   
You’re almost to class, and so lost in your thoughts of everything that’s wrong with your world that you don’t notice him until you barrel right into each other, books flying everywhere—his, of course, because yours are safely tucked away in your backpack—and you look up to see the handsome stranger from earlier staring back at you with his shocked, warm brown eyes, until you both begin to hurriedly pick up his books from where they’re scattered all over the frosted ground, both apologising profusely to the other and neither listening or hearing a word that the other is saying, until his hand fixes on your left one, gripping it tightly as he pulls it closer to his face.   
His expression is inscrutable as he reads the word written there, and you yank it out of his grasp as you tug the sleeve of your hoodie back down over the incriminating tattoo thrust on you without your permission, not that you particularly mind. Perhaps someday you’ll be able to change him into a tea-drinker rather than a coffee drinker, but if not, it’s not a huge deal. Those accounting textbooks are, though. Who wants an accountant as their soulmate? Not you, that’s for sure. Sooo boring!   
You’re not sure what your face is doing as his eyes bore into yours, but then you shrug off the strange feeling it’s instilling in you and rush past him so that you’re not any later for your crime stats class.   
*** 

It’s only later when you’re curled up in bed with Menchie that you realise the significance of today’s events. You met your soul-mate! And he’s an accountant… or a future one, which you’re not sure is better or worse than his already being one. And a coffee drinker to boot! You know you’re being shallow, but you don’t particularly care right now, you just want to lie here with Menchie purring on your chest and a steamy cup of tea in one hand while the other is occupied scratching Menchie with your length fingernails—perfect for head scritches—Menchie’s favourite.   
Then you wonder if you’re his soulmate too? Because you’ve heard of people who found their soulmate, but then discovered that their soulmate wasn’t their soulmate in return because they had someone else! What if that’s the case with this Ben the universe has seen fit to lump you with? You’re not sure how you feel about that, would you miss a coffee drinking accountant? If it meant going without love in your life aside from that you can glean from Menchie and various family members, would you give up the unconditional love, support and bonding experience of being with your true soulmate, a rare phenomenon that you should be proud and excited to experience for yourself instead of just hearing about it on the grapevine or the rare talk show that you watch when you’re sick or feeling sorry for yourself or there’s nothing else on the idiot box for you to watch.


End file.
